Could I Get A Little Sugar?
by planxtary
Summary: Alfred and Arthur live across the hall from each other, and both have a huge crush on their neighbour. Thing is, they've never actually met, and are planning to keep it that way. Their first meeting needs to be Perfect with a capital P, but that's rather difficult when they keep risking running into each other in the worst situations.
1. Totally Not Creepy

_**Alfred and Arthur live across the hall from each other, and both have a huge crush on their neighbour. Thing is, they've never actually met, and are planning to keep it that way. Their first meeting needs to be Perfect with a capital P, but that's rather difficult when they keep risking running into each other in the worst situations.**_

_**Warning: Um. Swearing? Romance/Humour.**_

_**Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**_

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><p>It was on a quiet Friday evening, around the time people were just returning home from work, that he found himself pressed against the door to his apartment, eye on the peephole and staring through at the door across the hall. <em>He'll be home soon<em>, was the thought running through his mind, and somewhere deep inside, he knew that he should be ashamed for memorizing his schedule, but at the moment that just didn't matter.

Gilbert, who'd had the misfortune of being over at a time like this, sighed from behind him.

"Are you actually gonna go out and talk to him this time?"

"Nope," Alfred said much too cheerfully, popping the P. "Shut up now."

Okay, so it was true. He'd never actually spoken to his across-the-hall-neighbour, but that didn't make his feelings any less real, he'd decided. He was in love and the object of his affections didn't even know he existed and he was perfectly fine with that constant heartache.

Gilbert felt the need to make an unnecessary comment. "You're such a freak."

"Says you," Alfred shot back. "Why don't you go sit on the couch and leave me to observe in peace?"

He heard Gilbert's retreating footsteps and grinned in triumph. Alfred – one, Gilbert – zero. People said that friends would always be there to support you with this kind of thing! Obviously they'd never met his friends, who only reprimanded him.

And then the sound of boots lightly tapping on the tiled floor outside the apartment reached his ears. His focus was immediately back on the hallway and the person who had just walked into his field of vision. His normally messy blond hair was even more hazardous than usual because of the windy weather and his boots were dripping with melting snow. Key already in hand, he shook his boots off on the doormat before unlocking the door, then made to step into his apartment, and paused. He looked over his shoulder, Alfred's way, and for a moment his heart stopped. He quickly ducked and slid down to the floor, trying to grasp onto the dark wooden boards for dear life.

"He didn't see you," Alfred muttered to himself. "There's no way. No way he saw you. And if he did, well that's okay! I'll just, um, move to Siberia... Change my name..."

He didn't know how long he sat there, at the foot of the door, but eventually it opened and came crashing into his shoulder. With a shout, he scrambled away on all fours like a wild animal and glared up at his assailant.

"_Matthew_," he spat accusingly. "How _could_ you?"

His brother responded with a sign. "Don't sit in front of the door, Alfred." The way he said it made is sound like he was used to this happening, and he probably was. It wasn't as though spying on neighbours and nearly being caught was something he did often, but it probably happened more to him than to the average person.

He slowly brought himself to his feet, then moved out of the way to let Matthew into the apartment, glancing over his shoulder as he did so. The door opposite theirs was closed and the one who lived there was nowhere in sight, but he knew that tomorrow at noon he'd leave to go buy groceries, as he did every Saturday.

"I hope he doesn't forget the milk again," Alfred found himself mumbling. Matthew paused in what he was doing to slowly turn and stare at him.

"This thing you've got going on is bordering stalker-like behaviour," he said matter-of-factly. "Imagine what Arthur would think."

_Arthur_, he thought, and his brother might as well have just ceased to exist. Arthur Kirkland was his name. He had moved into the building at the beginning of the year, and from the moment Alfred saw him, he knew he wasn't like the rest. It sounded incredibly cheesy, but it was true. He couldn't get him out of his mind and wanted to know more about him, but they'd never got around to actually meeting.

Alfred could have gone and knocked on his door right then, but how, in his baggy old sweatpants and red sweatshirt he'd stolen from his brother's closet? He needed Arthur's first impression of him to be perfect. It wasn't as if he could ride up to him on a white horse, dressed in his best suit as cherry blossoms cascaded down around him, but surely it could be better than this? He just needed to wait for the right moment.

And while it was true that the right moment hadn't come for nearly a year, it would soon. Eventually. Possibly. Probably?

Finally realizing that Matthew had said something, he opened his mouth to answer, only to see that he'd left and he was standing alone in the dark hallway. Matthew hadn't even left the lights on. That jerk. Alfred marched his way into the kitchen where Matthew was peering into the fridge, Gilbert tiptoeing up behind him with a can of pop in his hand that Alfred didn't remember offering to him. He followed the so-called Prussian's move, and after he'd accomplished his goal of scaring the hell out of Matthew, Alfred clamped his hand down on his shoulder and did the same to him.

Unfortunately, that didn't work out as planned. Gilbert always claimed that he wasn't responsible for his actions if you managed to surprise him. In fact, a few weeks after the brothers had met him, he'd made them sign a contract that stated he couldn't be held responsible for any injuries he caused. And in that moment, Alfred found his face, hair, and clothes drenched in root beer.

"Dude!" Alfred exclaimed. "Not cool!"

Matthew didn't even try to hide his smirk as Gilbert huffed, turning away from Alfred. "You only have yourself to blame," was all he had to say.

Alfred felt his eye twitch. "Really? I don't even get a sorry? The least you could-" a short, quiet knocking interrupting him from his rant. With a final glower at the back of Gilbert's head, he stomped off with a grumble of, "I'll get it."

But what he wasn't expecting when he briefly glanced through the peephole was to see a mop of blond hair, the windswept look appearing to have been brushed out. He blinked, wondering if he was imagining things, then tore his hand away from the doorknob as if it burnt him. Arthur was there, impatiently tapping his foot, while Alfred cowered on the other side of the door, coated in sticky root beer. Well shit.

And so, he did the obvious thing. He sped away from the door and went to hide in his room, shrieking at his brother as he dashed past the kitchen.

"Mattie, you get it!"

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><p><strong><em>Heyy! So this is a really old fic of mine that I don't think I ever actually posted. I still find it amusing though, so I've touched it up a bit and decided to post it! Stay tuned! ;D<em>**

**_Please review!_**


	2. Definitely Not Daydreaming

_What's taking so long? Is no one home?_ Arthur was about to turn around and head back to his own apartment when the door in front of him finally opened. He glanced up into blue-violet eyes hidden behind a pair of round glasses and stopped tapping his foot, immediately straightening out his posture.

"Arthur," came the greeting. "Hi."

"Hello, Matthew," he said in response. "You wouldn't have happened to receive my mail again, have you? I was expecting a package and it didn't arrive yet, but the company insists they've delivered it."

"Hm, why don't you come in?" Matthew offered. "I'll check. Sometimes Alfred picks up the mail and just dumps it somewhere without bothering to tell me about it."

With a grateful nod, Arthur followed him inside, becoming distracted despite himself at the name. He knew that Alfred was Matthew's younger brother, and while he had never actually spoken to him, he seemed like a nice person. Annoying, as he was sure that Alfred was to blame for the awful pop music playing loudly at two in the morning, but nice.

_And he's probably here,_ a voice in the back of his mind whispered, and suddenly Arthur was reminded that this was Alfred's apartment, too. He could run into him at any moment.

He started feeling nervous. What if he did? Would he say something?

"I think I've found it," Matthew said. He held a small box in his hands, and, turning it over to look at the label, he confirmed it. "Yup, it's addressed to you."

"Thank you. I don't know why they keep delivering my things to you. Sorry for any inconvenience," Arthur said politely as he took the box.

"It's no trouble at all," Matthew insisted.

Arthur nodded. "I'll be heading back then," he said, but as he turned around, he ran into someone. His mind instantly considered the first logical person for him to bump into: Alfred. He thought he felt his heart skip a beat.

But then, he heard an odd, accented voice that he didn't recognize, and he knew that it couldn't possibly be Alfred.

"Nah, why don't you stay for a while? Make yourself at home. We can put on movie."

Eyebrow raised, Arthur stared at the albino in front of him, confused. "I, uh," he faltered. "I don't believe I know you."

"What?" he feigned shock, and as he cockily continued, Arthur couldn't help but decide that he didn't like him. "I'm the awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt!"

Gilbert stuck out his hand, which Arthur stared at but made no move to shake. "Yes well," he met his gaze again, frowning. "I'm Arth-"

"_Oh_, I know who you are!" Gilbert interrupted, smirking. He seemed much too pleased with the situation. "You see, I happen to know a little birdie who-"

"_Gilbert_," Matthew hissed. "Don't."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Ja, ja, whatever." He turned his attention back to Arthur. "I see your name on the mail all the time, so I know who you are."

"You live here?"

"He doesn't," Matthew said, crossing his arms. "But he sure acts like it."

Gilbert shrugged. Arthur regarded him for a moment longer before continuing on his way. "Right then, I'll be leaving. Thanks again, Matthew. Goodbye."

After he had returned to his apartment, Arthur couldn't help but over-think things. It was a bad habit of his and often caused him to end up considering situations that would never actually happen. He had to wonder though: what if he had seen Alfred? What would have happened after that?

_"Oh hello, I'm Arthur," Arthur would have said. "You're Matthew's brother, Alfred, right?"_

_"Yeah," Alfred would reply with a grin. "Did we get your mail again?"_

_"Yes, but it's no bother."_

_"Nah, I'd hate to waste your time like that. Since you're already over here, wanna go out and-"_

The phone rang.

Face red, Arthur scrambled for the phone, tossing the package on a nearby table and kicking his shoes off as he did so. He'd just been standing in front of his door like an idiot! What was wrong with him?

"H-Hello?" he said quickly, hoping he didn't seem too surprised. He so had not just been daydreaming about his neighbour. Definitely not.

But it seemed that if his voice did give anything away, the person on the other end didn't notice anyway. "Arthur, _darling_!" the woman screeched, and Arthur winced. It was Francis' mother, who spoke entirely in exclamation marks. Nice.

"How are you, Ms. Bonnefoy..." he mumbled. Usually she'd berate him for calling her such, and insist to be called Marguerite, but today it seemed she was too excited to care.

"I am _magnifique_! And you?" She didn't give him a chance to answer. "Oh Arthur! Guess what?"

"Wh-"

"I'm getting married!"

He wanted to roll his eyes. "Wow, I cannot contain my shock." Marguerite Bonnefoy had probably had more marriages than he could count on two hands, and each time she acted like an eighteen-year-old who'd just been proposed to by the love of her life. "I mean... Wow! Good for you!"

"Oh, I am so happy you've finally moved into the area!" Marguerite continued to gush. "I can't believe you've made it this long without experiencing one of my weddings! You know, all the ladies in my book club agree that I am a _phenomenal_ wedding planner!"

"Well, I'm certain that it will be-"

"I already have the cutest outfits planned for you and Francis!"

Arthur's eyes widened. He'd seen enough photos of Marguerite's infamous weddings to know of the disaster behind those words. "Y-You shouldn't ha-"

"This year, I want a fairytale wedding. Oh, it'll be _marvelous_!"

"Um, maybe-"

"Imagine it! The wedding is outside in a green field. The guests are dressed as princesses, princes, and fairies."

What was this, a costume party? Someone may as well wear a full-body dragon suit. "I don't think that's-"

"I walk up the aisle, dressed in a beautiful, sparkling, flowing, white dress, wearing a tiara and jewellery to match, and Charles cries when he sees me. We recite our vows and kiss, and I throw the bouquet and a young, beautiful princess catches it."

"Uh, okay, but-"

"Then we have a party, and Charles and I ride away in a horse-drawn carriage!"

Arthur sighed. He could feel a headache coming on. "Great. It'll be amazing."

"I know!" Marguerite let out a happy sigh. "Well Arthur, honey, I have to go now. I'll call you up another time to discuss more details about the wedding!"

"Can't wait," he murmured. "Bye, Ms. Bonnefoy."

"It's Marguerite!" she exclaimed, then hung up. Arthur went to get some Aspirin.

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><p>The following day, Arthur found himself in front of the mirror he had hanging in the hallway, running a comb through his hair. His attempts to gain control of it failed him as always, so he gave up and went to pull his dark grey coat off the hook instead. As he pulled his arm through the sleeve, slipping on his boots at the same time, he couldn't help but listen in on a conversation going on outside the apartment.<p>

"But Mattie-"

"No, Alfred. I'm busy. Since you don't work, the least you could do is run down to the supermarket and buy all the food that _you_ eat."

"You eat it too."

"If there's anything left by the time you're done."

He then heard the door shut, which must have meant that the argument was over and Alfred was on his way to the store. The same store that he was on his way to.

And shopping was something that could wait, Arthur decided. He did need to stop by the library and pick up a few new books. It was better than risking an awkward encounter with his neighbour, at least. Who he, again, did not daydream about. That was absurd.

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><p><em><strong>The next chapter will be fun ;) But some things I'm planning for the future will be even better... Please review! ;D<strong>_


	3. Threat Avoided For Now

Grumbling some choice words under his breath, Alfred exited the building. Climbing down the stairs proved to be difficult as he slipped and nearly fell face-first to the bottom, but he managed to catch the railing in time to stop himself. But not before twisting his leg in an awkward way, of course.

"I fucking hate winter," he muttered, ignoring the odd looks from the few people who were out on the street. It was actually a nice day; it wasn't too cold and the sky was blue and dotted with a few fluffy white clouds. The sun, at its highest point in the sky, was shining brightly.

He made his way down the street in a better mood than before. These things never seem to last though, so it wasn't long before he found himself freezing mid-step, the old man who'd been walking behind him the entire time, angry at his slow pace, crashing into his back.

After several rushed apologies, the man continued on his way. Sadly, the same couldn't be said for Alfred. It was lunchtime, he realized. Noon. That meant that Arthur was on his way to the supermarket and would undoubtedly run into him.

Alfred didn't know why he was so intent on not seeing him. They were - err, _he_ was - in love, after all. His nerves were acting up like crazy and suddenly he felt like he was drowning in a sea of despair.

He would avoid Arthur Kirkland if it was the last thing he did.

"Come on, Al, think fast," he mumbled to himself. He glanced at the plastic bag in his hand. It was full of books that Matthew had wanted him to return to the library for him. _"You're already going to the grocery store," Matthew had said. "It won't hurt you to stop by the library as well."_

Alfred grinned. This couldn't have been any more perfect. He'd just stop by the library first, maybe search for some comics if they had any, and by the time he made it to the supermarket, Arthur would be gone.

It was a flawless plan.

He changed his route to the town's library. It wasn't far from where he lived, though it was in the opposite direction of the supermarket. He was going to have to retrace his steps, but that didn't matter. He was wasting more time, which was a good thing. Well, other than the fact that it meant he'd have to be outside longer.

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><p>The library was a large building with an intricate design. It didn't fit in at all with the rest of his little town. The place looked like it belonged in some historical film, with its columns and complexity. He climbed the few stairs leading to the glass door before pulling it open and stepping inside. The interior was just as fancy, with mahogany floors and expensive chandeliers, carpeting, the whole deal. He made his way to the front desk, trying his best not to track snow all over the place.<p>

The woman at the desk wasn't some strict-looking old bag like he'd been expecting. She had long brown hair and bright green eyes, and was smiling at whoever she was signing out books for. He was about to go wait behind the guy, since he didn't really know how this whole library thing worked, when he noticed something: blond hair sticking up in every direction, a familiar grey coat, and those huge eyebrows that he could see even without the guy fully facing him. Arthur.

_Crap! He's everywhere I go!_ The sirens in his head immediately started blaring, screaming about danger. He did what any logical person would. He pulled his hood on in a way that hid his face, pulled out the hat he had stuffed in his pocket and put it on overtop that, and brought his scarf up so it covered his mouth and nose. He tried his best to lurk past Arthur.

But since when do his plans ever work? He had barely been able to take a few steps before the girl at the desk was calling him back, and with a quick glance over his shoulder, he was able to confirm that both she and Arthur were staring at him.

"So you need help with something, sir?" the librarian asked, sounding uncertain. Rude. It wasn't as though he looked like a criminal- oh wait.

"Uh!" he squeaked, something that the great and manly Alfred F. Jones simply does not do. He quickly let out a series of very believable-sounding, in his opinion, fake coughs, turning away from the two completely and speaking in the deepest voice he could make. He also tacked on his best southern accent for good measure. "I'm, uh, just lookin' to return these here books for my brother?"

"Alright... You can just leave them on my desk here and I'll see to them when I'm finished," she said.

And so, he ended up shuffling backwards toward the desk, and Arthur, who he was sure thought he was some kind of loon by now. He stepped away from him as he neared, which Alfred supposed was a good thing. He then stuck his hand out behind him, the bag of books dangling from it, and threw it in the general direction of the desk. He heard the bag skid across the desk, and something about the sound of books then falling all over the floor told him that he probably missed.

"Thank you?" the woman said questioningly. He nodded, though it was probably difficult for her to tell, and then made his way out of the library in shame.

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><p>Arthur and Elizaveta watched the strange man as he left the library. Once he was gone, he turned to her with a raised eyebrow.<p>

"What on earth was that?"

"I have no idea," she said, shaking her head. She quickly gathered all the fallen books off the floor, then returned to him and finished signing out his books. "Let's just hope he doesn't come back."

After he left the library, Arthur wandered slowly toward the supermarket. He wondered if Alfred would be finished with his shopping already. After all, Arthur had spent a pretty good amount of time at the library. That should have given Alfred enough time, right?

He entered through the supermarket's double doors and grabbed a shopping cart, placing his bag of books into it so he wouldn't have to carry it. Then he pulled a shopping list out from his pocket. First: fruits and vegetables.

Wandering through the store, he slowly filled his cart until he had crossed out everything on his list. He looked it over once more anyway, then glanced over everything he had gotten already. He didn't want to forget something and have to make another trip to the store later.

He was about to head over to the register when he realized the most important thing was missing: tea.

_How could I forget that?_

Shaking his head, he made his way to the aisle with the tea. Just as he turned into it however, there was a huge crash. He glanced into the aisle just in time to see numerous brands of coffee fly off the shelf and onto the floor, and a shape dash out of the aisle.

What the fuck.

He rolled his eyes. Bloody people making a mess and then running away, leaving it for someone else to clean up.

He slowly entered the aisle just as an employee appeared at the other end. He had brown hair and an odd, flyaway curl, and as far as Arthur could tell, hazel eyes. The guy stared at him suspiciously as he approached the coffee.

"What the fu-" the brunette started, then seemed to remember he was at work. "-_hell_, happened here?" he demanded.

Arthur shrugged. "I showed up just as someone knocked all the coffee off the shelf and took off."

The employee, who seemed to be Italian, muttered a string of curses under his breath as he began to pick up the coffee, as well as something about how _this job doesn't fucking pay me enough for this shit_.

Arthur, liking to be polite, would have offered to help, but just then something caught his eye.

A hat on the floor.

The same one the strange person at the library had been wearing.

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><p><strong><em>I am sorry.<em>**

**_It's been like 3 weeks I know. But most days I had homework (including a huge fucking project that took me every waking hour last weekend) and those I didn't, I was so exhausted I went straight to bed after school. But this weekend I have nothing so yay :D I'll try to get some more writing done._**

**_Also if you like this fic, would you mind checking out Countdown? It's way more serious, better written, and planned out than this, which I am just making up as I go along, and I'm kind of sad this is so much more popular considering how much more effort goes into Countdown XD I'd really appreciate it!_**

**_Anyway, please review!_**


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